


嫌い

by notsafeforwank (comeonlight)



Category: Final Fantasy Type-0
Genre: Bad Smut, F/M, Hate Sex, Kinda, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Seduction, This Went A Different Direction Than Expected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 06:53:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16635038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeonlight/pseuds/notsafeforwank
Summary: Bad smut nobody asked for





	嫌い

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?

Takatsugu’s question serves to voice his disapproval rather than to inquire. He knows full well what Urushi is doing, and he doesn’t like it one bit. At least, that’s what the rational part of his brain has convinced him of.

Urushi smiles, removing layers of her uniform without a hint of hesitation. “Getting comfortable. I shouldn’t have to wear all this heavy junk while you get to sit around in briefs.” “Then go to your own room,” Takatsugu says, slightly raising his voice. He clears his throat as Urushi steps closer. He lowers his tone. “It’s late, and we both need sleep. Don’t be a nuisance.”

Urushi sits beside Takatsugu on the edge of his bed. She tries to make eye contact, but he avoids her gaze. “Taka,” she says quietly. Takatsugu shakes his head. “Don’t. We’re on the brink of war. There’s no time for...” He hesitates, a rarity for a man so discerning as himself. “There’s no time for love. Not for military.”

“Do you hate me?” Urushi asks. She rests a hand on Takatsugu’s left thigh. “Would you rather just forget me?” “You-” Takatsugu finally looks at her. His eyes land on hers, pale and inexplicably captivating. His eyes fall to her lips, her neck, her shoulders-

Urushi begins to lift her undershirt. “Well if you’re looking at me like that, I’ll go with hate.” She pulls the shirt over her head, and drops it onto the ground beside Takatsugu’s prosthetic. “I’ll ask again.” She reclines, lightly dragging her nails along Takatsugu’s thigh as she brings her hands to either side of her head. Her lips curve into a smug simper as Takatsugu follows her movement with his head, eyes, and soon his entire body. “Taka, do you hate me?” She’s won, yet again. Takatsugu replies to her question: “I hate you.”

*

Takatsugu bites Urushi’s lip and pins her arms to the bed with his hands, as if to reinforce his answer. Urushi’s smirk widens, welcoming her partner’s frustration. Of course, this wouldn’t be as fun if she didn’t bite back. She nips at him, letting out a giggle as an annoyed noise slips through his lips. His hands ease off of her arms and slip between her back and the sheets. Urushi’s patience is sustained only by amusement as Takatsugu fumbles. She finally lifts her back and unclasps the bra with her own hands. “Have you forgotten how to do that much, Taka? We should do this more often, then.” She tosses her bra aside and pushes stray locks of hair behind her shoulder. “Well?”

“I hate you so much,” Takatsugu grumbles as Urushi falls back onto the sheets, dragging him with her as if tugging an invisible leash. He takes a breast in each hand, lightly pulling and squeezing for a few seconds until he decides to roll over the nipples with his thumbs in a repetitive, circular, machine-like motion. “There you go,” Urushi says under her slightly labored breath. Takatsugu kisses her again. “Shut up.”

Urushi wraps her legs around Takatsugu’s body and attempts to pull him closer, but he won’t budge. “Pussy,” she jeers between kisses. Seamlessly, Takatsugu retreats to Urushi’s legs and places a hand on each. He glares into her eyes. “What was that you said?” Unable to resist, Urushi gladly repeats her insult. “I called you a pussy.” Without a word, Takatsugu spreads her legs and settles himself between them, eye contact unbroken as he presses his tongue against the black underwear hugging her form.

Urushi lowers her hand to tug her final garment down, but Takatsugu pushes it away in favor of using his own. He notes their position and pauses to figure out the best way to remove the underwear. Urushi rolls her eyes and lifts both legs straight up, then rolls over toward the foot of the bed. She sits up, removes the underwear herself, and gives Takatsugu a condescending glance. “Try again?”

Takatsugu says nothing, but lies on his back. “You’re impatient.” “Am I now, Sir Bulge?” Urushi crawls back to him, one hand gliding over the mass in his briefs as she rests her shins on either side of his head. “Hmm. Yeah, I think I like this better.” She looks down at his face with a smirk. He gives a blank expression in return, but seizes her hips with his hands and pulls her down. He breathes her in, kisses her, tastes her. As his tongue maps her out, he loses himself.

“I thought you were supposed to hate me,” Urushi says, twirling a few locks of silver hair around her finger. She bites her lip as the tongue beneath her draws circles, diligently and meticulously, like a machine. An awkward, complicated, stressed out machine that knows how to keep a pace. “My bad,” she breathes. “You must- Yep.” She clenches her fist just enough for Takatsugu to feel a tug on his hair, to which he replies with a confident “Hmph,” as he continues. Urushi inhales sharply before forcing herself aside. Ignoring the slight shaking in her legs, she reaches for Takatsugu’s briefs.

Takatsugu grasps Urushi’s wrist and licks his lips. “I can do that much.” With his free hand, he pulls the briefs halfway down, and they cling loosely to his left leg. Urushi tilts her head. “Don’t suppose you’re gonna let go?” Without waiting for an answer, her wrist breaks free of Takatsugu’s grasp with a twist. She grasps the base of his length and gives a light pull. Takatsugu grunts. Urushi nearly bursts into laughter. “You’re cute,” she says as her hand returns to the base and begins anew. Her strokes are slow, uniform, and tantalizing. “It’s one of the things I hate most about you.” She lowers her head and flicks her tongue out over the tip. “So, what will it be? Should we finish each other off?” “What kind of question is that?” Takatsugu snaps back, only a hint of a waver in his voice. Urushi allows herself a quick laugh. “I’m just saying that at this rate, you may not last two minutes.”

Takatsugu gives a laugh of his own. A spiteful, nearly sinister one. “Funny for the person who wants this most to say that. Don’t forget. I’m the one who knows you best, and hates you most.” Urushi’s hand halts, and she sighs. “Such a romantic.” She moves to straddle him, keeping her grip on his length as she lowers herself. Takatsugu moves his hips accordingly to accommodate. “Does it hurt?” “Gh-!” Urushi lowers herself all the way to Takatsugu’s hips. She looks up at him, forcing a grin. “Not until you make it hurt.”

Urushi begins to grind her hips, breathing audibly and grasping Takatsugu’s shoulders. Only half aware of his body reciprocating the movement seemingly of its own accord, Takatsugu flinches. “You...I’m starting to really hate you.” “Good, now act like it.” Urushi rises and falls, eyes locked with Takatsugu’s until pleasure devours her focus. Yet despite this mania, they remain perfectly in sync down to the heaving breaths.

Urushi brings a hand to her mouth with an urgency and bites it to keep herself quiet as her back arches. Takatsugu smirks, only to have the expression wiped from his face as Urushi leans forward and whispers into his ear. The remainder of the self-control he’s so well known for dissipates. Rhythmic thrusts dissolve into involuntary jerks and twitches. Takatsugu stares at the ceiling with wide eyes. Urushi kisses his cheek with a satisfied grin. “I wonder how much you must hate me now.” Takatsugu lifts his head to kiss her lips briefly.

“I’ll let you know tomorrow.”


End file.
